


The Rock Show

by RedLetterMistress



Category: Mike Stoklasa - Fandom, Red Letter Media
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Erections, F/M, Flirting, Hand Jobs, Meet-Cute, Nerdiness, Outdoor Sex, Public Nudity, Punk Rock, Rescue, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Warped Tour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23578237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLetterMistress/pseuds/RedLetterMistress
Summary: Milwaukee, July 2001. You're a punk rock fan barely over the legal drinking age. You and your friends save up enough money for the Warped Tour, but get more than you bargained for when you're dragged into a mosh pit. Your night takes a turn for the better when you're saved by a mysterious stranger.Based on a combination of reader requests as well asthe songThe Rock Showby Blink 182.
Relationships: Mike Stoklasa/Reader
Comments: 46
Kudos: 66
Collections: Red Letter Media Fanfic Quarantine Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Hanging out behind the club on the weekend  
>  Acting stupid, getting drunk with my best friends  
> I couldn't wait for the summer and the Warped Tour  
> I remember it's the first time that I saw her there_
> 
> _I fell in love with the girl at the rock show  
>  She said "what?" and I told her that I didn't know  
> She's so cool, I'm gonna sneak in through her window  
> Everything's better when she's around  
> I can't wait till her parents go out of town  
> I fell in love with the girl at the rock show_

It's mid-July in Milwaukee, 2001. You're currently hanging out just outside the entrance of The Rave; totally stoked that some of your favorite bands are playing this year's Warped Tour. You came with a small group of friends and are now planning out the evening. 

There's six stages at The Rave and the bands are playing on different stages at different times throughout the day. You've all got your programs out, sharing a pen to check off all of the shows you want to see. 

You've all agreed to the same bands for the first part of the day, but you and your friends are currently torn between watching Good Charlotte or New Found Glory at 7pm.

Liz, Brian, and Wes want to go to Good Charlotte on the main stage in the Eagle Ballroom but only you and Alissa want to see New Found Glory in the Rave Hall. You all decide to break up the group - just for the one show, you promise - and you'll all meet up afterwards for Rancid and Weezer.

Was it going to be weird seeing your ex (Brian) basically dry humping your best friend (Liz) all day? Yes. Were you only going to New Found Glory to get away from their constant PDA? Actually, not really. It was just a happy coincidence. 

You're decked out in your best: a spaghetti strap neon-green tank top, a pair of baggy jeans, six different chain necklaces, and a pair of DC skate shoes. Your hair is done up in small pig tails with a bit of glitter and a thin black flannel is wrapped around your waist in case it's cold on the long walk back to Brian's car.

"I don't know," Alissa panics. "I don't want to get lost, guys. Can we meet up in the Beer Garden after the shows?"

"God! Yes, Alissa! Northwest corner. We're not going anywhere else," Brian balks before taking a firm hold of Liz's ass. You cringe a bit, but try to get past it. _Douchebag._

"Okay, guys! Let's go!" Wes screams and takes off running to the entrance.

You hold up your baggy jeans and the entire group chases after him; smiles and giggles all around.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- _Six Hours Later_ -o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

The show has been absolutely amazing so far. Guttermouth and The Ataris were fucking awesome. The Misfits were passable, but who the fuck cares, it was the Misfits! It might not be the original lineup, but Glen Danzig is kind of a dick, so it's not like your missing too much.

Finally, it's time to splinter the group. You and Alissa head in early for New Found Glory in the smaller Rave Hall. You finagle and push your way up to finally stand about three rows away from the stage. You see the band step up to their microphones and you cheer loudly.

"How the fuck you doing, Milwaukee?!" asks the lead singer. The band starts up with one of your favorites - _Sincerely Me._ You sing along to every word, dancing in place and pounding your fists in the air. Every song they have is about a shitty breakup and its fucking great. Next comes _Eyesore_ , and both you and Alissa tear up at the sad song. It's not like it reminds you of Brian - cause fuck him. Whatever. 

The band starts _Better Off Dead_ and you're fucking golden again. You're totally lost in the song and fail to notice the crowd pressing their way between you and Alissa.

Halfway through the song some asshole rams himself into your back. You turn to see a mosh pit forming right behind you. You scan around for Alissa, but you can't find her anywhere. 

Panic sets in as a huge guy in a Less Than Jake t-shirt slams another man into your side. You try to move forward to escape the pit, but no one wants you to take their spot nearer the stage. 

Someone grabs you by the tiny strap of your shirt and yanks you back towards the center of the pit. A thin man with a mohawk pounds you in the chest and you lose your breath. You try to call out for help, but the music is too loud for anyone to hear you. 

You attempt to run away from the stage and back into the crowd, but somebody rips at one of your pigtails. Your head whips back as tears form at the corners of your eyes. 

You turn and try to scream before another man with two fat, silver nose rings elbows you hard in the face. You feel yourself fall as the music, and everything else, fades to black. You hit the floor hard.

Alone in the darkness, you feel a kick into your ribs. Your stomach rumbles with nausea and your body is freezing. Pain radiates across your entire being. And then you feel nothing but the cold.

…

…

"WHAT THE _FUCK_ , ASSHOLE!?"

…

"Hey!"

...

“Oh, fuck!”

...

"Lady!"

...

"Pretty lady!" someone’s saying. It's muffled and you don't know where they are or who they're talking to.

"HEY, LADY!" the voice yells again.

You open your eyes to see a long face inches from yours. The most beautiful eyes you think you’ve ever seen peer back at you, full of shock and concern.

"Hey! Wake up, pretty lady!"

You look down as best you can to see him perched on top of you, his arms and body shielding you from the violence of the pit. Someone stomps him in the side and he grunts in pain.

"You okay?!" he asks loudly. 

“What?!” you scream. “I’m.. I'm fine…”

“I don’t know, lady - you got hit pretty hard,” he replies.

"I… I… I don't..." you whimper as tears fall down your cheeks. You're not even quite sure what's happening.

"I'm going to get you out of here, okay?!" You can only nod as you feel him take another blow on your behalf.

"Hold on!" barks your savior. You sniffle your tears away and wrap your arms around his neck.

He pulls you up off of the ground and you bury your face into his sweaty t-shirt. It smells like Irish Spring and Pabst Blue Ribbon. He takes another hit to his back, but his grip doesn't falter.

You feel him move through the crowd, screaming loudly at anyone in his way. He finally reaches the exit and finds a bench in the hallway.

"Get the **fuck** outta my way, shitstains!" he roars at the couple making out on the long seat. They scamper away quickly and he lays you across the bench.

"Hey, pretty lady. You're okay," he soothes. He holds a mostly empty bottle of water to your lips and you take a shaky sip. You stare up at the ceiling and try not to cry.

"Do you have a name or do you just want me to keep calling you 'lady'?" he asks with a small laugh. You introduce yourself, hoping that your voice doesn't crack too badly. You look over to your stranger to thank him and see blood running down his face and dripping down into his formally white t-shirt.

"Your nose!" you gasp. You sit up on the bench and try to take a hold of his face. He grabs your hand and holds it tight.

"It's okay," he assures you before he spits a mouthful of blood on the carpet and then wipes his bloody nose on his sleeve. "That asshole hit a beautiful girl who had no place in a mosh pit. I punched him, he punched me, yada yada yada - It's the circle of life," he smiles and his teeth are pink with blood. "I think he might still be laying out on the floor, though. Fucking pussy.” He spits again.

You feel a breeze against your chest and you look down to see that both of the straps on your green tank top have been torn away. Your shirt is barely covering your left breast on one side and you're completely exposed on your right. Tears come back to your eyes as you try to hide yourself. Your stranger starts to rifle through his clothing. 

"Hey, don't worry! I got ya!" He unties his black leather jacket from his waist and pulls two safety pins out of the shoulders. He diverts his eyes and hands the pins to you on the palm of his right hand. He holds up his jacket over your chest and looks away. You do you best to pin your shirt together as he shields you again; this time from the prying eyes of any passers-by. 

He tries to take your mind off things by cracking jokes through his jacket. “What kind of fucking asshole has **two** nose rings anyway?" he laughs. “I get your whole deal when I see the first nose ring, guy: you’re a badass and you hate authority. What’s the second one for?” You smile through your sniffles as he goes on. “Did he see the first one and say, ‘No, I don’t think this conveys exactly _how much_ I hate the system. Gonna need at least one more nose ring, maybe two.’ Gotta leave the door open for a third just in case he ever gets picked for jury duty.”

You giggle brightly and close the second safety pin. Shirt now mostly fixed, you pull down the leather jacket and finally look up into the deep brown eyes of the man who saved you. He's pale and thin and wonderfully tall, even as he crouches in front of you. He looks to have perpetual stubble on his cheeks with thick black eyebrows and eyelashes you would literally kill to have for yourself. His short green and black hair is spiked up high and he has a perfect, wide smile that sends your heart soaring.

"I'm Mike," he says before cleaning more blood from his sharp nose. "And I think we both need a fucking drink."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right, everyone! Its my first Mike Stoklasa fic. I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> The Warped Tour did really play Milwaukee in July of 2001. All of the bands mentioned really played, and Glenn Danzig really is kind of a dick. #realism
> 
> This is my 12th entry in the Red Letter Media Fanfic Challenge, meaning just over three solid weeks of posting RLM fanfiction every other day. Hopefully, I'll be able to keep the quality up for you! Let me know what you think! I'm a little nervous about this one. 
> 
> Also, here's fanart of Sid by [halcyonhighways](https://halcyonhighways.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.
> 
>   
> XOXOXO - RedLetterMistress


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike takes you outside for some fresh air. But will he get fresh?  
>   
>   
> 

Mike makes sure you finish the rest of his water before standing you up near the bench. 

"I was really excited to see that show," you confess.

"Eh, fuck it,” Mike shrugs. “Do you want to watch from the back? Or I could take you outside for some air." 

"I don't know," you start. You're still a bit out of sorts and the music is pounding on your head. "...I … I was here with my friends... but then someone hit me," you babble.

"Well your friends sound great," Mike laughs. "I'll make sure you get back to them, I promise. Let's go get you some more water and some fresh air, and then I'll flag down a security guy and find your friends."

"But what about the show? Don't you want to see them?" you ask.

"I just punched some motherfucker in the face and rescued a beautiful woman. That's way more fucking punk-rock than New Found Glory," Mike smiles. "And I have the CD in my car, I'll be fine."

Mike brings one of your arms over his neck and holds you gently by the waist as he guides you to one of the side exits. Outside, he walks you towards another small group heading in; two men and two women. 

"Goddamn it Mike, how drunk is this chick?" comes the voice of the taller blonde girl as she stomps out her cigarette on the concrete.

"Well she's letting Mike grope her, so I'm guessing really drunk, really high, or she's got a head injury," says the shorter brunette girl.

"Actually fuckos, she got banged up in the pit,” he informs them. “Could you chucklefucks get her some water and make sure she's okay? I gotta let security know she's out here with us in case her friends are looking for her," Mike explains. Both young women flock to your side and try to assess your condition. Mike takes off into the crowd and you're left with his friends. The girls guide you to take a seat on a narrow ledge behind them.

"Jay, grab my bag," says the taller girl. A small man with an overbite and baggy shorts jumps at her order. He returns quickly with her backpack.

"I'm Lauren," the girl introduces herself. She pulls the lid off of a new bottle of water and hands it to you. "And this is Jay and Lisa and Rich." All three of them awkwardly wave at you.

"I'm fine," you insist. "I just got the shit kicked out of me a little." You try to laugh, but have to brace your side from the pain.

Mike rushes back a moment later. The green dye from his hair is now running down his shirt and joining the bright red bloodstains. He looks like a sexy, sweaty Christmas tree. 

_That's a weird thought._ Maybe you did hit your head. 

You look back over to Mike as his friend in the Phuck Filadelphia shirt hands him a bottle of water. Mike takes a swig and sloshes it around to get the rest of the blood out of his mouth. He pours some of it on his head, bringing more green down to stain his shirt. He towers over you and the bright lights of the building illuminate him from behind. He crosses his long arms across his chest and runs his hand over his chin with concern.

_Nope. He really does look like a sexy Christmas tree._

You crack a small smile and give him a wave. Relief floods his features and he finally grins back.

“You sure you’re okay?” Lisa asks. 

“Yeah, Mike probably took a worse beating than I did. He saved me.” You smile up at Mike as all four of his friends look at you utterly confused. They all turn back to him. 

“ _What_?!” Mike shrugs. He flips off all of his friends with both hands. “Oh, fuck you guys! I can do nice things, you cocksuckers,” he says defiantly before crossing his arms back over his chest. You see Lisa and Rich roll their eyes. 

“Um… not to be a complete asshole, but The Vandals are starting,” Jay informs the group.

“You gonna be okay?” Lauren asks. You nod and try to wave her away. 

“Go watch the fuckin’ Vandals, you dicks! I’m staying with her,” Mike yells. The rest of his gang seems to have absolutely no issue with being addressed as dicks and they cheerfully head toward the side entrance. 

“Hope you feel better!” waves Lisa over her shoulder as they disappear into the crowd. Mike leans against the ledge to your right and watches your face closely. 

“I’m really okay,” you inform him. 

“I’m sure you are. The multiple chain necklaces let me know you’re badass,” he laughs. Mike reaches out and checks your face in his large hand. He wipes a stray tear away from your cheek with his thumb before pulling away and sitting back against the fenced ledge. “I’m just going to keep you company until you fall in love with me and we run away together. Or until your friends get here. Whichever comes first.” 

“Oh really? I’m going to fall in love with you, am I?” you tuck your face down and try not to blush, but you’re almost positive it’s not working.

“It’s inevitable,” he shrugs. “You can’t get carried out of a mosh pit like Whitney Houston in _The Bodyguard_ and then **not** fall in love with Kevin Costner. That’s just Screenwriting 101,” Mike says with a cocky grin. 

“Are you the Kevin Costner in this scenario, then?”

“I know; You look at me and think I must be the Whitney, right?” he laughs. “But in this particular case, I am the Costner.” His small teeth and crooked smile are too damn perfect and you have to divert your eyes to keep from staring at him.

You cross your legs at the ankles and set your hands down on the narrow ledge near your thighs. 

You lean over to nudge Mike with your shoulder. “Thank you for saving me back there.” 

“No problem,” he pats your hand gently and you grab him before he has a chance to pull away. Mike looks down at your joined hands and raises a dark eyebrow in your direction. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks in a deep voice.

Now you’re _sure_ you’re blushing. Your eyes move down quickly. A large pair of Doc Martin boots peek out the bottom of Mike's red checkered pants. You stare at the yellow stitching and try to ignore the rapid beating of your heart.

“I’m sure it’s the concussion messing with my head, but I just wanted to make sure you’re real.”

“Yeah," Mike smiles. "I’m real." He runs his thumb over your fingers. "Oh shit! Except for the hair. I'm not a natural green."

"I think most of it's on your shirt now," you giggle.

Mike tugs his shirt away from his chest to check for himself.

"Ah, fack!" he curses with a thick Chicago accent. His cheeks turn pink as he smiles awkwardly. "I, uh… _shit_ ," Mike sighs. He looks over at you and makes a sour face. "It's from a spray can."

You gasp over-dramatically and try to hold a stern expression, but your smile keeps breaking through. 

"Look at me, Mike. Look at me," you tell him as you point to your super-serious face. "You **sicken** me."

"Fuck! I BLEW IT!" Mike yells. A small crowd of people turn around to see what caused the commotion.

"She figured out I'm a fucking poser, you guys! FUCK! Might as well buy some khakis and move to the suburbs!"

The crowd quickly turns back to their conversations and you're left alone; back in your own little world with Mike.

"Not going to throw in Polo shirts or a minivan in your domestic nightmare scenario?" you ask.

Mike's face plummets to his chest and he shakes his head in shame. He looks up to you through his eyelashes.

"I… uh… I actually _do_ drive a minivan," he confesses with a giggle. "It's my mom's," he chuckles. "She's going to want it back on Monday with a full tank a' gas!" Mike starts to laugh harder and covers his mouth with his hand. "And I'll do it 'cause I'm mommy's good little man, goddamn it!" he snickers. "Her perfect baby boy!"

Between fits of laughter, you sneak a peek at his lovely brown eyes. They start to sparkle in the moonlight as tears form at the corners. 

You finally get your chattering mostly under control and shake your head clear. 

"You're fucking crazy, Mike," you laugh.

You watch as his focus moves across your face; from your eyes to your nose and across your cheeks. "Maybe," he answers with a nod.

“I like it," you blush. "Tall, dark, and handsome men don’t often sweep in to rescue me - at punk shows or anywhere else,” you confess. You wet your lips and his gaze finally settles on your mouth. Mike cocks his head to the side before his grin turns mischievous. 

“Oh, darlin’. That is just a damn shame.” Mike pulls up your hand and leans in closer. The smell of his deodorant is sharp and clean; a strange contrast to his bloody, sweat-soaked shirt. Mike keeps his eyes on your lips as he places a soft kiss to your knuckles. “I’m sure you just never needed saving before.”

You hide a shy smile against your shoulder and look down to watch Mike place your clasped hands back down on the ledge. Your eyes wander to his arms and you shift your body towards him to run a finger up the dark hair along his forearm. 

“Wow. That’s some pretty manly arm hair you’ve got there,” you laugh. 

“I’m Czech. We’re basically just sentient collections of body hair," he informs you. "I haven't been blessed with any back hair yet, but I'm really just a genetic ticking time bomb at this point."

"What a rich cultural heritage, Mike. Thank you for sharing that with me."

"Well it is! We're 99% body hair and 1% meat-based hotdish. We just fucking love goulash!"

"I'll remember that," you smile. "Just in case we run off together - It'd be good to know what I should cook for you." 

Mike throws his head back and laughs loudly. His sharp Adam's apple bobs as he chuckles. 

"That sounds amazing!" he smiles wide and your head swims. "Almost makes me hope your friends never come to get you."

Your hand ghosts up his arm and snakes around his bicep. You feel him flex under your grasp as he bites his bottom lip.

"I'm actually kinda hoping for that now, too," you tell him quietly. You lean in closer; lost in Mike's impossibly dark brown eyes. His charming smile widens as he moves toward you.

"What the **fuck** is this!?" yells an angry voice behind you. Mike peers over your shoulder and his eyes narrow. 

Your shoulders shoot up to your ears and your skin crawls.

 _Mother_ **_fucker_** _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fic a day early? Well its just cause I love you so much! 
> 
> Fun fact: Mike Stoklasa did drive a minivan at this point in his life. I don't know if it was actually his mom's though. :)
> 
> Hope you're enjoying the story! Let me know what you think! I'd love to read your comments. My main tumblr is still down, so feel free to reach out to me at redlettermistress@gmail.com or stop by my new [secret tumblr](https://rlmfanfic.tumblr.com/) RLMFanFic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike continues to be a manic pixie dream guy.
> 
>   
> 

"Well shit. Looks like I'm going to get in the second fight of my life," Mike grumbles.

"No," you sigh. "Wait! What? Really?!"

Mike nonchalantly shrugs.

"Wow. Okay," you try to refocus. "But no. This is my…" you struggle for the correct term for your ex. "... um…"

"Boyfriend?" Mike asks without taking his eyes off of Brian. 

"No. Fuck no. I don't have a boyfriend," you explain. "Just _friend_ ; if that." You move to stand between him and Mike.

"Alissa pulled me out of Good Charlotte, freaking out and telling us you were missing. I had to find a security guard and he says you got carried out of the show. But you're just out here making out with some asshole. What the fuck?" Brian miffs.

"Bri, calm down! I got trampled in the pit and Mike pulled me out."

"So now you're just going to fuck him in the Beer Garden?"

Your mouth gapes incredulously before your eyes burn to holes into Brian’s dumb stupid face.

"Actually, I was having a great time just talking to Mike, but I will fuck him on the roof of your car if I goddamn well want to."

"I like where this is going now," Mike chimes in behind you. "More of this, yes."

"There you are!" Liz, Alissa, and Wes walk past Brian with relieved smiles. 

"We were so scared," Liz says. 

"I was only mildly concerned," Wes adds with a smirk. 

"I'm so sorry I lost yoooo…." Alissa trails off as Mike stands up behind you. A dazed grin appears on her face as she stares up at him. "H… h...hiiiiiiii," she breathes.

"Liz, Alissa, Wes, Brian; this is Mike," you turn to showcase Mike like you're a model on the Price is Right. "He saved me from the pit,” you smile up at him proudly.

"Oh my god, that's _so_ romantic," Liz sighs. Brian's angry face whips over to gawk at her.

"Not really," Mike answers with a shake of his head. "I thought she was an injured gazelle and I got a whole reptile petting zoo to feed," he sets his fists on his hips and shrugs. "I'm just not going to pass up that much free meat; not in this economy."

Wes chuckles, but both of the girls seem too distracted to actually understand what Mike is saying. They smile blissfully all the same. Brian continues to glare.

"Thanks for checking on me, guys. But I'm fine. Really. I'm just going to stay out here with Mike for a bit and then head back in." You check your watch. "Rancid is coming up in like a half-hour and I'll be there."

Mike whispers pointedly at Brian: "And I'll be wearing her like a hockey mask, if you catch my drift." He makes a V with his fingers and licks between his knuckles in Brian’s direction. “That cool with you, **Bri**?"

You try desperately not to giggle at Mike's antics.

Brian grabs Liz's arm and tugs her away. "Whatever, dude."

"Oh, yeah. Okay. Totally," Liz says as she wakes from what you're sure is a Mike-fueled daydream. Can’t say you blame her.

You give your friends a few hugs before they head back to Good Charlotte. You spin to face Mike again. 

"So, where were we?" 

"Something about you and me and the roof of a car as I recall," Mike answers as he puffs out his chest. "But I'm thinking you might just be under the spell of my chiseled features and ripped body?" He tries a body-builder’s pose and fails spectacularly. 

"Yeeeah, no," you tease.

"Fuck!” he yells defeated. “I should have never given up steroids! I need the juice!"

"How about a beer instead?" you offer. “I’m buying.”

His eyebrow perks up to his dark hairline. "I'll allow it.”

You filter into line at the outdoor bar and ask Mike about something that’s been pestering you for a while. 

"When you rescued me - was that really your first fight?"

"Don't read too much into it,” Mike replies with a snarky face. “I just saw a girl getting thrashed. My sister would have killed me if I let that go," he smiles. "I didn't realize you were beautiful until you were unconscious."

"You think I'm beautiful?"

"Don’t fish for compliments. It’s beneath you,” Mike reprimands. You roll your eyes and slap him in the stomach. A huge smile breaks across his face as he tries to shield himself from another blow. “Ouch! Man! Well shit, I'm not _blind!_ So yeah, I'm aware that you're beautiful."

"Well I think you're very handsome," you confess. Mike covers his smile with his hand and turns his face away.

"In fairness, you did take a bow to the head, so maybe you're not seeing clearly," Mike explains. He takes the tall beer you hand him and gives his thanks. You step out of line and he looks back towards the building. 

"So what's the deal with your awful friend?” Mike asks as he takes a long sip of his beer. “He seems especially 'penisy'."

You drink half of your pint in two gulps before deciding to get into that can of worms. Mike looks impressed that you don’t choke on the frosty beer.

"Ugh. Well, used to be actual friends," you start. "Then we dated for six months; actually bought tickets to see this show together. Then a month ago he broke up with me saying that I 'deserve someone better' who would 'take the time' to 'love me as I am,'" you relay with finger quotes. You take another swig. "I thought that was a pretty decent break-up for the most part. Then he started fucking my roommate a week later.” Mike’s face winces exaggeratedly before he quickly downs another drink.

"What a fucking idiot," Mike scoffs into his beer.

"Yeah, well…" you shrug. 

"Honestly. He’s an idiot. - If I had a girl like you, I'd be on my knees thanking Baby Jesus every day. Fucking moron." You don’t try to keep back the blush this time. 

"I don't usually condone violence, but it was kinda nice to see you looking ready to fight him,” you smile. “Just full-on Spock versus Kirk."

Mike's eyes go wide and he stands in stunned silence.

"Dude, don't look at me like I'm an asshole," you snip. "Lots of people like Star Trek. It's a fun show and I'm not going to apologize for..."

"No! Nonononono!" Mike stutters. He reaches for your shoulder and grips you tight.

 _"'No I won't kill him! You'll have to get your entertainment elsewhere!'"_ he says in his best Kirk voice.

"Ho-ly shit! You're a Trekkie?" you laugh. 

"I may or may not have an original series costume at my house," Mike replies. 

"Most guys I know don't know anything about Star Trek, or they don't have the balls to admit they do."

"Well I actually tripped over my balls _several_ times on the way here, so I'm clearly not in the second category," Mike notes before going back to his beer.

"So you're saying that was actually your _pon farr_ that made you punch that other guy in the face?" 

Mike does a full spit take and a cloud of Pabst Blue Ribbon explodes from his mouth. He tries to recover. "That's **exactly** what I'm saying." Mike salutes you and pulls up the bottom of his shirt to wipe off his beer-drenched chin. 

You cast your eyes down to his stomach to see a patch black hair covering the pale skin of his abdomen. It's damn enticing, though he’s not quite as werewolf-like as you had imagined. You wonder what it would feel like to comb all of your fingers through his chest hair at the same time. Just to straddle him and start at his belt line; snaking your fingertips all the way up to his neck....

_Snap out of it!_

You shake off the thought and get back to your discussion of Vulcan mating rituals. "Well if it's got to be either fight or fuck for your species, I'm glad you chose to fight."

Mike tips his cup to you and winks. 

"The night's not over, darlin'."

...

Your brain short-circuits.

…

Your face flushes bright red as you try to think of something to say. 

"I… uh… wow," you giggle. Your cheeks start to hurt from keeping up your impossibly wide smile. "I can't…uh.."

You look over to Mike and his perfect shit-eating grin and you smack him hard in the chest. "You're such a cocky bastard!"

"That I am, little lady, that I am.”

“Fucking hell, Mike! God, you’re distracting!" He wiggles his eyebrows at you as he takes another drink. 

"So what does a cocky bastard like you do for a living?"

“I spend most of my time making weird movies and dressing my friend up like a wheelchair-bound pedophile,” he explains matter-of-factly. 

“Sure. Sure,” you nod. “As one does.” Mike shakes his head in enthusiastic agreement.

“As far as how I pay the rent, well I'm currently employed as an exotic dancer by the name of Dirk Peckerton. I’m one of the main attractions at a club called The Slippery Weasel just outside of Wheaton, Illinois," he finishes his beer and tosses the cup in the nearby trash. 

"Wait! In _Illinois?_ " you ask as your chest tightens.

" **That’s** the part of that story you find strange? Good to know,” Mike laughs. Your eyes start to get misty as he continues on. “Yeah, I’m from a suburb of Chicago and went to film school in the city. I video weddings every now and then, but I'm still trying to figure out how to get paid to make movies full time. I don’t want to live in Hollywood or New York, so Chicago is the next best place."

You huff in understanding, but your stomach just keeps sinking.

"So you’re going to leave town after the show?” you ask sadly before burying your face in your empty beer cup.

“Love ‘em and leave ‘em wanting more, I say!" Mike shouts in an old-timey radio announcer voice. He glances down at your poor attempt to not appear miserable and chuckles. 

"I come up here all the time; even when I have absolutely no reason,” he assures you as he runs his hand up and down your upper arm. He smiles sweetly and taps on one of his safety pins keeping your shirt together. “But I think I found reason to come up here _every_ weekend.”

Mike’s hand moves up to caress the side of your face. You peer up into those fathomless brown eyes and your heart simply stops beating. You hold your breath as you crane your neck and stand up on your tiptoes.

“GIVE ‘EM THE BOOT! THE ROOTS! THE RADICALS!” scream a bunch of rowdy, mohawked punks to your right. The realization hits you like a baseball bat to the chest.

“Shit! Rancid! Fuck, my ride’s already pissed at me. I gotta go!” you jump. “Wait, are you going?!”

“I was going to get another beer and head over to Rollins Band, actually.”

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” You curse your horny brain for not being able to think straight. “Uhh...Can you meet me back here at, um…” you check your watch, “at ten?”

“I’ll be here,” Mike replies simply.

“I’m sorry. Shit! I'm so sorry. I gotta go,” you apologize and head into the crowd filing into the entrance. Looking back, you can see Mike bite his lip before shoving his hands in his pockets and walking to the bar line.

You finally push through the sea of people to make it inside and curse yourself. You stare down the busy hallway, then back outside. You imagine how pissed your friends must be that you’re late and then you picture Mike’s perfect brown eyes and cocky smile inches from your face. 

Maybe it’s the beer, maybe it’s the night. Maybe it’s just him.

**_Fuck it!_**

You turn and force your way back through the oncoming crowd; dodging mohawks and spiked collars and avoiding the stomping of steel-toed boots. 

Mike’s back is to you as he waits in line at the bar. You run up and tap him on the shoulder; praying that he won’t think you’re crazy for this. He turns half-way around and you jump up and wrap both arms around his neck, planting a kiss to his lips. His sharp nose crashes into your cheek and you hum against his mouth. His eyebrows shoot up high and he struggles to get his hands out of his pockets. You lick his bottom lip and nibble down just enough to hear him moan. You pull back quickly and smile up at him.

“Sorry! Couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do that when I had the chance,” you explain; running your fingers across his stumbled jawline. Mike tries to hide his smile in your hand as his cheeks turn pink. You force yourself to sprint back to the entrance before you actually do run away with this crazy weirdo. Mike's hand reaches out to you as you leave.

“See you at ten!” you yell over your shoulder.

The cocky grin on Mike’s face could be seen from space. He throws his extended hand up in a wave and you dive back into the foot traffic. 

You keep it _mostly_ together until you’re hidden by the crowd. Then both of your hands shoot up to feel your tingling lips. You open your arms and thank the universe before pumping your fists towards the ceiling like a spastic toddler. 

10pm cannot come soon enough. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I hope you guys are liking this. I'm normally such a Jay girl. I hope I'm doing Mike justice!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your friends want to know more. Meeting up with Mike doesn't go quite as planned.
> 
>   
> 

You run as fast as you can to get to the Rancid show. You’re not looking forward to how angry you’re friends are going to be, but maybe if you buy everyone a round, they’ll be less peeved. You head to your group’s entrance and crane your neck to find them. Instead, they find you. 

Someone grabs your shoulder and spins you around. Two bright, happy smiles greet you. 

“TELL. US. **EVERYTHING**!” shouts Alissa. 

“What? Wait where’s Brian and Wes?” you ask.

“They’re probably in the front row by now. Brian was being a twat and bitching about you running late, so he and Wes went ahead,” Liz explains. 

“Liz and I, being wonderful, selfless friends, decided to wait out here to make sure you got in,” Alissa giggles. 

“Mmm hmm,” says Liz.

“Mmm hmm,” agrees Alissa.

“And to hear _every detail_ about that fine piece of man meat you roped in,” Liz chimes. 

“‘Man meat’ sounds like you’re just talking about his penis,” you point out. 

“Oh wow we can already talk about his penis?” Alissa asks. “Okay, awesome. Let’s start there.”

The girls grab you by both arms and walk to a bench near the Rancid merch booth. You rapturously describe how Mike carried you out of the pit during most of _Ruby Soho,_ how funny he is through the entirety of _Roots Radicals_ , and how amazing kissing him was over the complete three-minute run time of _Salvation,_ despite the actual kiss being about five seconds long. The girls gasp and giggle at all the right times.

“Okay, enough guys. I feel like Sandra Dee fawning over Danny Zuko in _Grease_ \- we should go watch the show.”

“Hey The Vandals do a cover of _Summer Lovin’_ , so it’s still totally punk rock. You sure you don’t want to ‘Tell me more, tell me more’ about this guy?” Alissa teases.

“I met him like a hour ago! That’s all I know about him!”

“Are you gonna meet up with him later?” Liz inquires excitedly.

“Yeah, at ten. And then hopefully go to Weezer together. If he even likes Weezer. Shit, does he like Weezer?" you panic.

"Everyone likes Weezer," Alissa points out. 

“Well then you should take these,” Liz says as she reaches into her small backpack. She hands you four condoms with black and gold wrappers. 

“Oh, wow. Uh, thank you for the vote of confidence, Liz. But don’t you need these?” It’s not like you _want_ to talk about her sex life with Brian, but she should still be safe regardless. 

“Yeah. I don’t think that’s going to pan out,” Liz shrugs. “Brian is…. he’s… not great.”

“He isn’t,” you agree. “But I’m sorry. Really.” And you mean it. 

“Me, too,” she replies with a sigh. You stuff your condoms into your front jean pocket and give her a hug. Alissa joins in on the love.

“Seriously though, if you don’t climb that dark redwood of a man, I swear to you - I will,” Liz says with a laugh. 

“Me too,” Alissa adds.

You hold Liz on your right and Alissa on your left as you walk into the Rancid show.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Tim Armstrong and Matt Freeman were great. Seeing _Time Bomb_ live was incredible. They even played two Op Ivy songs - _Knowledge_ and _Sound System_. Amazing. You really did enjoy the band, but you were constantly checking your watch. 9:50 finally hits and you look to Alissa.

"Go get it," she yells.

The Rancid set is over, but they haven’t done any of the encores. _There’s no time!_ You wave your goodbyes and sprint to the exit. 

Hundreds of douchebags block your path, but you're determined to get where you're going. You reach the Beer Garden and immediately scan the crowd. 

Nothing yet. 

You head to the exact spot you last saw Mike and look around for the 6-foot-something object of your affections.

...

Nothing. 

…

More nothing. You step up on your toes and look again.

…

A lively group of Indie-rock kids all with thick, black-rim glasses tries to move you from your spot, but you stand firm. You tip toe up tall and search again.

...

Your stomach plummets when you don’t find him.

…

Maybe you're in the wrong spot. You look at your surroundings.

…

Nope. This is it. 

…

Maybe you're early. You check your watch.

…

Shit. 

…

…

How could it possibly hurt this much? You don't even know the guy. 

…

You scan the crowd again. 

...

It's 10:15.

…

He's not coming. 

…

You're not going to cry. Not going to cry. Not going to cry.

...

...

"...even referenced _Amok Time!_ If your goddamn Pac-Man watch fucked me over on this Rich, I will **fucking** murder-suicide you!" comes a gruff voice behind you.

"It’s only like ten minutes slow!"

You pivot around to see a very angry, leather-clad Mike and his friend… _Rich_ … apparently. Mike's expression changes the instant he finds you. 

"Oh hey,” Mike smiles sweetly. He thumbs over to Rich with disgust. “This piece of shit's watch isn't working!" 

Rich shows off his plastic Pac-Man watch with its Velcro closure and smiles like a goofy kid.

"Apologize to her for making me late," Mike demands.

"Uhhmm... Sorry he's late?" Rich says with a shrug.

"It's cool. I just got here," you lie through your teeth. Mike pounces you like a jungle cat; grabbing you around the waist with both arms before he lifts you to his chest and spins you around in a circle. His mouth finds yours as your arms wrap across the tops of his shoulders. His tongue parts your lips and the world outside goes silent as you drink him in. The small spikes on the shoulders of his leather jacket poke your arms and your ribs ache sharply, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You purr happily into his mouth. 

"Aaaand I'm out," Rich mumbles. He turns and disappears into the crowd.

Mike sets you back down, but his arms don't leave your sides. 

"You surprised me earlier," Mike confesses as he rests his forehead on yours. 

"Good surprise or bad surprise?" 

"A gorgeous, crazy chick bought me a beer then and grabbed me by the face and kissed me under the moonlight. It was _awful_. Just fucking awful,” Mike deadpans.

“God, you’re lucky you’re hot,” you shake your head. 

Mike sputters into laughter and tries to hide his smile in his hand. “I, uh…” he blushes. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Would you like to go to Weezer with me?” 

“Oh, no. Sorry. I’m going to go to 311,” Mike says with a wince. Your shoulders sag as he continues. “I gotta bleach my hair blonde before they hit the stage though. Buy a puka shell necklace and get a Sublime tattoo, grow a soul patch, smoke some shitty weed out of a turtle terrarium. My dance card is pretty full tonight.”

You nearly sprain your optic nerve with your epic eye roll. 

“Yeah. I’ll go to Weezer with you,” he smiles. His large hand ghosts up your shoulder and rests on your neck. Mike coaxes your face up to meet him as he kisses you again; this time slow and soft. His warm lips melt against yours and your tongues roll together languidly. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and smiles against you before kissing you twice more. When he finally pulls away, you feel positively drunk. He looks down on you with his deep brown eyes and nothing else in the world matters. But you can’t just stare at the guy for the rest of the night, right? Right?

“I actually like that _Amber_ song from 311,” you admit. Mike laughs brightly and shakes his head.

“That’s such a chick song.”

“Oh it's for chicks, huh? Like spray-on hair color?” you tease. 

"God you’re sexy when you’re taking cheap shots at me,” Mike growls. The condoms in your pocket burn against your thigh. 

“Oh speaking of shots, would you like another beer?” you offer as you motion over to the bar.

Mike bites his lip and gives you the slightest of nods. “I’m buying this time.”

You and Mike head up to the bar and he orders two shots of tequila and two pints of Spotted Cow. He hands you the shot and clinks to you in cheers.

“Tequila?” you ask. 

Mike shrugs. “It’s Mexico somewhere,” he explains just before downing his shot. You follow suit and fire your shot down quickly. 

Mike spends the next ten minutes telling you about the movie he’s currently making with his friends in town. That it's his second movie playing a character named 'Big K' who’s a wannabe gangster. And that Jay winds up cumming in his own eye so he has to wear an eyepatch for most of the movie.

“Wait, your friend cums in his own eye? Or the character he plays does?”

“Well you’ll just have to watch the movie to find out,” Mike winks before taking a big swig. 

“My my my. Do you have any other characters?” you inquire.

“Well there’s Sid,” Mike notes. “I’m still working on him. He’s an English punk rocker.”

“So you do an English accent, then? That sounds pretty sexy.”

“‘at’s rought! ‘ow you doin’ Mill-wookie?’” Mike says in the single shittiest Cockney accent you’ve ever heard. You burst into laughter. 

“Holy shit Mike! I gotta tell you…”

“That my British accent was flawless?”

“Yes. That’s it exactly. It’s like I was instantly transported to the mean streets of London,” you laugh. 

“I know it sucks - but that’s why I love that character. I actually picked up this jacket with him in mind,” Mike explains as he spins around to show it off.

“Well you look amazing in it, Mike. Or Sid. Whoever you are.” A large piece of black fabric hangs out of the bottom of the jacket on his left hip that you don’t remember seeing before. 

“What’s that?” you point to the fabric. Mike stops his turn and looks deflated.

“Aw, shit! Damn it, I should have just put it in Lauren’s bag,” Mike groans. “It’s for later.”

“For later? What do you mean?”

“You are just the worst,” Mike mutters. He untucks it from his left hip and unfolds the fabric. It’s a plain black t-shirt. You shrug dismissively.

Until Mike turns it around and you see the front.

It’s just three little white bars with black text, but reading it makes your eyes itch.

_"New Found Glory"_

Mike looks away as he holds up the shirt. “I just thought that you might need a better shirt because of what happened to yours. But I wasn’t going to whip it out until later. And when I say ‘whip it out,’ I mean the t-shirt. Not my jibbly bits.”

“Wow,” is all you can say. Mike hands you the shirt and huffs. 

“You don’t have to wear it. I like being able to look straight down the shirt you’re wearing now, but if you’re cold, go ahead.”

“You look down my shirt?” you snip at him.

“Uh, near constantly, yeah. You should really be more observant,” Mike teases. You peer down at the t-shirt in your hands and smile.

“I love this band,” you say; Mike diverts his eyes. 

“That's weird. I hadn’t heard that,” he replies as he shakes his head and looks over your shoulder.

“And you walked all the way back to their merch booth? Did you miss Rollins Band?”

“Ma'am, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” Mike says as he pretends to wave at someone to your left. 

“And you guessed my size and bought me a shirt with your hard-earned exotic dancer money?” Mike shakes his head and refuses to look at you. 

“Again, ma'am, I don’t have a clue what you mean.” His shoulders shoot up to his ears in an exaggerated shrug. You cock your head to the side and stare at him for what feels like a solid minute. Finally Mike peeks down at you with one eye. 

“Thank you, Mike.” 

A small smile cracks across his face.

“You’re welcome, pretty lady.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's commented on this work. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your feedback!
> 
> Today, with this chapter, I have officially posted new fanfic to the Red Letter Media Fanfic Quarantine Collection every other day for an entire month! Thank you for riding this little trash train with me! 
> 
> If you want to write your own RLM fic, DO IT! Add it to the challenge! Email me at redlettermissress@gmail.com or reach out to me via my alt Tumblr [RLMFanFic](https://rlmfanfic.tumblr.com/).


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You watch Weezer and spend some quality time with Mike.
> 
>   
> 

“Would you accompany me to watch Rivers Cuomo be a pretentious douchebag for 40 minutes?” 

“I’d like nothing more,” you reply. Mike gestures to the entrance and you tuck your new shirt into your belt. 

“Wait, hold up,” you say as you reach the door. “Can you turn around for a sec?” 

Mike puts his back to you and you pull another safety pin from his jacket. You poke it through the black fabric to fasten your New Found Glory shirt to your belt. 

“There we go,” you smile. 

“I feel so used,” he laughs. 

“ _The night’s not over, darlin_ ,” you wink. Mike pauses as the recognition hits him.

“I see what you did there,” he smiles. 

“Oh good! I was starting to worry that you were too cute to be smart.” Mike hides his smile in his shoulder as he opens the door and lets you inside.

You and Mike walk down to the main venue, tossing your empty beer cups along the way. Mike sees his friends near the restrooms and you stop to chat. 

"I'm glad you're feeling better!" Lisa shouts. 

"Thank you," you yell back.

“So I’m going to drive Rich to Jay’s place,” Lauren barks to Mike. He gives her a small nod. "Try not to do anything stupid,” she adds.

Mike continues to nod in agreement before pulling his middle finger up to his face and scratching his cheek. It's not exactly subtle. Lauren breathes into her fist like she's blowing up a balloon flips him off in return.

Mike’s group walks into the show as you head further down to meet your friends.

“Does that mean you’re free after this?” you ask Mike hopefully. He raises a dark eyebrow in your direction. 

“If you don’t mind riding in a minivan, I could hang out for a while, yeah. Drive you home, too.”

“That’s sweet of you,” you swoon. 

“But just to warn you; it’s cash, grass or ass. And I’m already good on money and weed.”

“Wow,” you laugh. “And they say romance is dead.”

You round the corner and find your group near the usual entrance. Alissa, Liz, and Wes greet you, but Brian thankfully stays to himself. 

“You guys married yet?” Alissa inquires.

“You are such a dork!” you whisper/yell back as you make your way inside the enormous Eagle Ballroom. 

“But I’m going to get a ride from him after this,” you confess excitedly. 

"I bet you are," she winks before giving you an enthusiastic double thumbs up. Mike sees the entire exchange and tries not to laugh.

Rivers Cuomo and Brian Bell step out on stage and you whoop loudly. Their latest bass player trots out as well, but no one really cares. 

A smaller redhead girl next to you gets up on her boyfriend’s shoulders. The view must be amazing from there, but you’re more concerned about her spilling her beer on you. Mike nudges you to get your attention.

"Do you want to get on my shoulders?" he offers loudly.

"Yeah,” you answer excitedly. That beer/shot combo is making you feel pretty brave. You point over to the redhead. “But I’d like to be facing the other way,” you shout.

Mike looks as confused as he is handsome as he tilts his head; maybe he didn't hear you right. You make a V with your fingers and lick in between your knuckles at him. Shock finally registers across his sharp features; he tucks his chin into his chest and smiles wide. He nods and tries to recover. 

"Dirty girl,” he shakes his head. “Dirty, beautiful girl."

Weezer launches right into _My Name is Jonas_ and everyone in the crowd loses their damn minds. You and Mike look to each other and sing along to the second verse:

 _“My name is Wepeel -_  
 _Got a box full of your toys!_  
 _They're fresh out of batteries -_  
 **_But they're still making noise, making noise_ ** _!”_

You sing every word to _Hash Pipe, Say it Ain't So,_ and _The World Has Turned and Left Me Here_. They keep playing deep tracks from the Green Album, which makes sense; it just came out. But you like their older stuff and you're hoping to see _El Scortcho_ or _Across the Sea._ Maybe _Getchoo._

The band starts up another banger. Mike jumps and bops his head to _Buddy Holly_ like he’s a punk rock Ringo Starr. It's amazing.

But then Rivers starts some damn speech about the evils of George Bush and you just don’t care. Politics are important, you know that. But preaching to a bunch of drunk 22-year-olds at the Warped Tour seems like a waste of time. Mike looks down at you and shares the same “get a load of this asshole” face. You step closer and place your hand on the front of his shirt as you laugh into his shoulder. 

“He’s such a douche,” you chuckle. Mike’s chest shakes as he laughs in agreement. His arm wraps around you and you nuzzle into his chest. Whoever the new bass player is finally starts the next song. Mike holds you and you sway in time with the slow music.

“ _You can't resist her -_  
 _She's in your bones._  
 _She is your marrow,_  
 _And your ride home._  
 _You can't avoid her -_  
 _She's in the air;_  
 _In between molecules_  
 _Of oxygen and carbon dioxide_.”

You gaze up to Mike and see the show lights dancing across his face. He watches you thoughtfully, smoothing his hand over your cheek and studying your eyes with intention. 

“ _Only in dreams..._  
 _Only in dreams..._  
 _Only in dreams…_ ” 

Rivers sings passionately as the music swells. Mike’s eyes dart to your lips and you feel him hold his breath. You keep one of your hands spread across his heart and cup his sharp jawline with the other. You stand up tall in his arms before his lips press to yours. 

The cacophony of Patrick Wilson’s drums reverberates through both of your bodies.

Mike’s tongue rolls across yours and he breathes into you. You taste the Spotted Cow and bottom-shelf tequila on his lips and smile serenely against his mouth. Mike sucks gently on your bottom lip and you open to him again. His stubbled jaw moves against your palm as he deepens the kiss. His hand roams down your back, pulling you nearer and drawing a slow moan from your throat. Warmth radiates off of him and you find yourself consumed by the desire to claw his shirt off and feel his bare skin. You finally come back to your body when _Island in the Sun_ begins to blast out of the huge amps on stage. 

Mike still holds you tight and bends down close enough for you to hear him. “I don’t think they’re going to play anything from _Pinkerton_ \- Rivers hates that album,” he explains.

“Really? Well, shit!” you reply with disappointment. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” 

You bite your bottom lip and nod happily. Mike reaches down and laces his fingers between yours. Without a word, he heads toward the exit. You move swiftly past the sea of people in the entryway and don’t stop until you’re out on the pavement. You try to stamp down your excitement and avoid squealing like a little girl.

“So what’s the plan?” you ask as Mike checks your surroundings. 

"Well my original plan was to finish one of the twelve packs of Milwaukee Beast I have in my van and then pass out on Jay's floor. Maybe puke off of the balcony a few times - I hadn't planned that far ahead," he notes. "But I don't see how you could possibly come up with a better plan than that."

"Well if you're going to leave soon, I’d like to spend as much time with you as I can. And I know the perfect place; it’s just south of here,” you tell him. 

“You’re going to lure me to a construction site and kill me, aren’t you?” 

“Shit! How did you know?!” you kid before smacking him playfully in the chest. “No, it’s actually a park, and I have no plans to tie you up and kill you.”

“What about just the tying me up part?”

Instantly, the condoms in your pocket heat up by 1000 degrees.

“I, uh… I was thinking of just talking... no rope involved... if that’s okay,” you reply. 

“That’s fine,” Mike smiles. “But I will tell you that you’re missing out. I know a ton of nautical ties. The Bowline, the Lusty Wench. Of course the Clover Hitch and the Charles Barkley. Uh, the Bowline on a Bit, the Admiral’s Knickers and the Half-Hitch.”

“Are any of those real?”

“Yes!” Mike yells out into traffic. “And I’ll never tell you which ones! Mwah ha ha! This way to adventure!" 

He quickly jaywalks across the street and you follow suit; heading east to Mike's car. He holds your hand as you walk past the Ambassador Hotel. 

"That place is supposed to be haunted," he points out.

"Really? Wait, how the hell do YOU know that? You're from Chicago! Do you just frequent haunted house message boards?"

"I am a well-informed skeptic."

"Maybe next time you visit you can get a room there." 

"Are you into ghosts?" Mike asks. He stops in his tracks to wait for your answer.

"Ghosts are cool, sure. But I more just love the idea of you being scared of something. You don't seem the type."

"I get scared all the time," Mike balks as he starts to move again. "But it's mostly for my friend Rich and his upcoming Super Diabetes. I hear it can go airborne."

You head north on a side street and the breeze kicks up. Mike stops next to a burgundy minivan and you quickly put on your dark flannel. He unlocks the passenger door before moving to the drivers side. You take your seat and look down to see a small collection of car snacks. The backseats of Mike's van have been removed so most of the interior is actually empty. There's just a milk crate full of cables, a roll of egg crate foam, some duct tape and two sleeping bags.

"Jesus. And you thought **_I_ ** was going to murder _**you**?" _

Mike puts his keys in the ignition and turns to you.

"Uh. I need you to know some things about me," he starts with an awkward face.

"I'm already picking up the murderer vibe from your van." 

"What? No. That's for the movie I told you about," he smiles. "I… uh… I am not a punk rocker."

"Okaaaay," you reply.

"I am a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy. My wallet isn't on a chain, I have no tattoos or piercings, this is the longest my hair has ever been and probably ever will be," he confides.

"So just a normal guy, huh?"

Mike drums against his steering wheel and looks straight through the window. "Yep. I think I might even own a pair of khakis. Maybe two." His shoulders sink almost imperceptibly. "I'm sorry if you were expecting someone else."

Your brow furrows in thought as you watch him closely.

"Just an 'average, boring, normal' dude?" you offer simply. Mike doesn't blink.

"Well, shit," you groan. His hands grip the steering wheel tight and he sighs.

"And here I thought you were an 'amazing, hilarious and secretly-sweet-when-no-one's-looking' kind of dude - Not to mention gorgeous." You shake your head in disgust. "But now you tell me you don't have any tattoos?!" You reach for the door handle dramatically. "Well then fuck this shit! I'm gone!"

You look back over your shoulder to see Mike smirking, but his hands are still tense. What a puzzle of a man.

"I couldn't care less, Mike." 

"I just wanted you to be aware that I'm not a badass." 

"I respectfully disagree, but thanks for being honest," you smile. He grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles again. You look into those puppy eyes as a question pops into your head. "What were you doing at the show, if you don't like the music?" 

"I do like punk music and indie rock; a lot, honestly. But I like all kinds of music; Nirvana, Marilyn Manson, Smashing Pumpkins. Plus a lot of soul music, some rap, and if the mood strikes, the occassional emo shit like Death Cab and Ben Folds."

"I think it's great to have diverse interests," you smile. "But what's your _favorite_ band?" 

"Well..." Mike shrugs as he turns the keys in his ignition. His engine springs to life and classic rock music blares out of his speakers. 

" _Baby, you can drive my car._  
 _Yes, I'm gonna be a star._  
 _Baby, you can drive my car,_  
 _And maybe I'll love you._ "

Mike looks to you with a charming smile.

"It's kinda hard to see them live these days," he laughs.

"Cause they broke up 30 years ago or because one of them is dead?" you smile.

"It's actually the ticket prices!" Mike chuckles. "Fucking Ticket Master and their surcharges!" He shakes his head and you take the opportunity to surprise him with a kiss on his stubbled cheek. 

Mike smiles to himself before he engages the break and turns the wheel away from the curb.

"So do you think you can handle my particular type of badass?" he asks as he perks up an eyebrow.

"Only one way to find out," you reply. Mike pulls a surprisingly tight U-turn in the street and you head into the Milwaukee night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over a month of posting every other day! Man, that's a strange thing to say. But it's been fun!
> 
> I hope you like the story so far. I'd love to get your input on something: Smut - Yay or Nay?
> 
> Personally, I'm open to keeping this at a T rating, but if ya'll want some sex, I'm also up for that. Just want to get a general idea of what you'd like to read. Let me know in the comments or reach out to me via my alt Tumblr [RLMFanFic](https://rlmfanfic.tumblr.com/)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Date night on the shore with just a pinch of smut.
> 
>   
> 

You direct Mike due east until you hit 794 near Lake Michigan and then head south. The fifteen minute drive is full of Beatles songs. From _Please Please Me_ to _Revolver_ to _Sgt Pepper's_ , Mike knows every word. He’s got a 6-CD changer in his van and every one of them is a Beatles album. 

He sings along loudly and his voice is a particular kind of wonderful. He might not be lead singer material, but he can certainly carry a tune. The complete lack of shame as he sings along makes it just perfect.

You show him where to park along Sheridan Drive and he turns off the engine. When the interior lights come on, you see a lighter sitting in the van's console. 

"Can I borrow that?"

"Only if you promise that after you're finished murdering me, you'll burn me on a funeral pyre," he answers. 

"Full Darth Vader-style funeral. Cross my heart. You deserve nothing less," you smile. Mike jerks wildly at his steering wheel with both hands. 

"Come on? _Star Wars?!?_ You like fucking _Star Wars?!?"_ he questions.

"Not really. I mean, I love the original ones," you offer. "But I saw the new one a while ago and I thought it was just awful."

You look over to Mike and you swear you can see fire in his eyes. 

"Sorry Mike," you shrug. "I didn't like it." You can hear him breathing heavily as he watches your face. The muscle of his neck flexes as he sets his jaw.

Mike lunges out of the driver's seat and plants a savage kiss to your lips. Your teeth click together as Mike pours himself into the kiss; moaning into your mouth as he grips your opposite hip. 

Warmth rushes to your center when Mike's thumb begins to massage the apex of your thigh. His palm is over your front pocket and the crinkling of the condom wrappers jolts you back. You grab his left hand on your hip and hold it still. Mike pulls back and shakes his head clear. 

"I… uh… wow. I’m sorry about that," he apologizes as he gets back into his seat. "That's just the sexiest thing I've ever heard a woman say to me."

"I have literally _no_ idea how to respond to that," you laugh. Mike scratches down his face with both hands and chuckles. "Would you like to hear my thoughts about _Indiana Jones_ or _Back to the Future_?" you offer.

"Please no - I can only get SO erect," Mike jokes. 

You laugh along with him, but mostly just to cover how pink your cheeks get at the thought of his cock. Is he wearing boxers? How big is he? What does he taste like? Is he actually hard right now? Will it hurt?

_Snap out of it!_

“Uh, hey! We should grab a sleeping bag. It’s kinda rocky down there and there’s not much to sit on.”

“Yeah, no prob,” he replies. Mike gets out of the van on his side and you finally take a moment to breathe. Yes he’s beautiful and sweet and funny and amazing. But you also just met him. You’ve never slept with a guy you just met before. Then again, you knew Brian for months before you dated him and he still turned out to be a complete fucking asshole. But Mike’s leaving and you might not ever see him again.

“You okay?” Mike asks. He’s standing next to your open door with a sleeping bag under his arm. 

“Yeah,” you sigh. You get out of Mike’s van and reach down to hold his hand. You walk him into the park past the children’s playground; enjoying the feel of his fingers wrapped around yours. “I was just thinking about you leaving tonight. I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I’m not leaving tonight,” Mike replies perplexed. “I was going to crash at Jay’s place with Rich and drive home sometime tomorrow.”

“But I thought...” you start.

“You might have _**thought**_ that, dear girl; but I never _**said**_ that,” he informs you with a wag of his finger. “Plus, I was already planning on coming back next weekend so we can shoot the convenience store scenes for Jay’s movie.”

“So I have you all to myself for tonight?” 

“You have all of me - or any individual piece you want of me - all to yourself tonight,” Mike smiles. 

Heat swells low in your belly and you swear you feel your nipples pebble in your bra. 

You can’t look at Mike right now. He’ll know how much you want him; the cocky bastard. You keep your eyes on the path in front of you and squeeze his hand. Your decision is made. “Good to know.” 

The wooded path narrows slightly as you head down to the water. The beach near Sheridan Park is covered with gray rocks and pebbles. The shoreline juts out into Lake Michigan to the north and south of the beach making the area effectively a small, secluded bay. You walk out onto one of the long, concrete jetties that extends out into the lake. 

Mike looks north to see the lights of downtown Milwaukee dancing over the waves. The breeze over the lake is mild tonight; not even strong enough to bring a chill through your thin black flannel. 

You look up into his deep brown eyes and time just stands still. “I want to know more about you and your movies,” you tell him. “Come on, let’s get a fire going.”

You walk back down the small dock and head up the beach. You see a collection of driftwood in a small alcove about 50 feet from the walking path and head that way. A tree trunk nearly as long as Mike is tall lies on its side, bleached white by the summer sun. Gnarled roots and branches jut out of the tree at all angles. 

“Here’s good,” you tell him. You dig out a section of rocks to make a small fire pit. Mike unrolls the sleeping bag and lays it along the edge of the white tree trunk a few feet away. You both gather dry wood and toss it down near the pit. 

“This would actually be easier with... hmmm... I don’t suppose you have any paper on you?” you ask him. Mike reaches into his chest pocket and grabs a thick leather wallet. He rifles through the contents and pulls out twenty or so receipts. You flick the lighter to life and take the opportunity to read his license. 

“Stoklasa, huh?” 

“It’s Czech,” he explains. 

“It’s _cute_ ,” you counter. 

You wad Mike’s receipts into a pile and toss on a few of the smallest sticks you can find. You light the paper in several places and pray it’ll be enough. When the fledgling flames finally begin to consume the sticks, you thank the universe and do a little happy dance. You wince as you try to bring your arms up above your head. 

“You okay?” Mike asks. 

“You think you’re ever going to get tired of asking me that?” you smile.

“Not sure,” he replies. “You know, if you’re still sore, I could help.” Your eyebrow perks up of its own accord.

“With your Czech sex magic?” you ask.

“Yes. Exactly with that,” he smiles. “I’m just going to need some noodles, a casserole dish, and a cat.”

“What’s the cat for?” you giggle.

“Oh you do NOT want to know,” Mike answers with a laugh. 

“Is it for sex stuff?” you guess. Mike nods quickly.

“Damn it! You guessed it. The cat is for sex stuff,” he grins. "And we get real weird with it. Buuuut I was actually going to offer to rub your shoulders if you want.”

“That sounds amazing, actually. Yes.”

Mike throws another piece of driftwood on the fire and then sits on the tree trunk. He reaches between his legs and smacks the wood. 

“Have a seat,” he offers. 

You take your place, sitting on Mike’s sleeping bag between his long legs. He places his hands on both of your shoulders and begins to knead them gently. He leans down to whisper in your ear.

“How hard do you like it?” he asks before nibbling your neck. 

“How hard can you get it?” you tease. 

“So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?” he smiles. He kisses the top of your head. “Just tell me if I do anything you don’t like, okay?” You bite back a giggle. 

“I’m actually kind of warm,” you inject. “Do you mind if I take off this flannel?”

Mike flashes a cocky grin. Maybe he's used to this little back-and-forth.

“Less clothing? Sounds wonderful to me.”

You unbutton your shirt and toss it to the far side of the sleeping bag. You settle back down against the tree trunk in your green spaghetti-strap top and Mike’s hands return to your shoulders. His thumbs ease into the muscles near your collar bone and it feels fucking exquisite. Mike’s fingers pull the tension from your neck and out to your shoulders where it all just evaporates. 

“God, that’s fucking amazing. Thank you.” Your head rolls back into Mike’s lap as you moan. You open your eye by a slit to see Mike leaning forward; trying and failing to not look down your shirt. You stick out your chest and he can't help but stare.

“Could you tell me more about your movies?” you ask in a breathy voice. 

“What?” Mike answers distractedly. “Oh! Right. Sorry. Yeah. I make movies.” You run your tongue over your teeth as you smile up at him. He makes a snarky face back - “I’m sorry you’re beautiful and distracting!” 

“Are you really sorry about that?” you ask.

“No,” he sighs. “I’m glad you’re beautiful and distracting. Especially with the fire. You look gorgeous like this.” 

Even upside-down as he currently is, Mike is lovely. His deep brown eyes reflect the firelight back at you as he gives you a sweet smile. You see his sharp nose in profile as he looks out over the water.

You reach down to the safety pin on your right side and unfasten it. Mike looks back down to see you move to the left pin. 

“You don’t have to…”

“I don’t have to what? You said you were going to give me a massage, right?” You pull out the other pin and pull your shirt down from your bra. 

“Yeah. Sure. That’s..yeah.” Mike's grip on your shoulders falters as he peers down your chest. You see him wet his lips and you reach up to hold his jawline. Your other hand moves over your bra, pulling the thin fabric away just enough for him to see the top of your nipple.

“Jesus Christ,” he throws his head back and growls. “I don’t know if… uh…” he stutters. He reaches down to the front of his jeans and adjusts himself. 

The thought of his hard cock swelling at the sight of your breasts is more than enough encouragement. You undo the clasp on the front of your bra and bite your lip as you watch Mike’s eyes go wide. Your bare breasts bathe in the fire light. Mike bites down hard on his bottom lip.

“Do you think you could massage them, too?” 

“Fuuuuck,” he groans. “Fuck, you are fucking perfect. Fuck!” His hands ball into fists.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you offer.

“Of course I want to, they’re fucking amazing!” Mike bristles before running his hands down your chest. He cups your breasts gently before kneading them with his fingers. His head comes to rest near your right ear as he watches your nipples tighten under his touch. 

You arch your back into him and moan into his ear. “Mmmm... That's perfect.” You hear him growl before he kicks the tree trunk back and stands behind you. 

“Fuck. Could you... could you get up on your knees? Please,” Mike asks. The gravel in his "please" sends shivers down your spine. The thought of blowing Mike here on the beach actually sounds fun. No one can see you and you could hear someone walking over the rocks from a mile away. You eagerly hop up onto your knees facing the fire and wait for him to stand in front of you. 

Instead, Mike kneels behind you. His knees rest on the sleeping bag just inside your legs and he moves to spread your knees shoulder-width apart. He nuzzles against your neck, biting down firmly as his hands wrap around your chest to find your breasts again. You can feel his hard cock press against the small of your back. His hands continue to massage your breasts.

"You feel so good," you moan over your shoulder. Mike nibbles up your neck to nip at your earlobe. 

“Can I make it feel better for you?” he breathes. Before you can ask how, Mike’s right hand presses against your mound. Even through your jeans, Mike applies enough pressure to make your vision go blank. He massages his strong fingers over your cunt and you can feel your panties dampen. He pulls you closer and your hips roll against his hand. His cock grinds against your back as you squirm under his touch. 

“Please?” he moans. 

You completely forgot he asked a question. All you can do is nod. Mike moves both hands down to your waist before you remember your belt. You pry off and unbutton your jeans for him. Mike’s hand is immediately down the front of your panties; his thick fingers sliding over your clit and delving between your folds. 

Mike’s body shudders as he eases one digit inside of you. 

“Goddamn. You’re so fucking wet.” He tugs your left nipple between this thumb and pointer finger and you whimper as his right hand explores your depths. You look down to see his strong, calloused hand gripping your breast in the orange glow of the firelight. Mike stretches you with another finger and your eyes roll back in your head. 

“Fuuuuck,” you whimper. “That feels so good. Please don't stop."

Mike smiles against your neck as his fingers move to tease your clit. The feeling is electric and your body spasms in his arms. He plunges inside again and growls when he hears the obscene squelch of his fingers in your wet pussy. He pulls his hand away and sucks your slick off of them. His impossibly hard cock grinds against your ass as he licks his fingers clean. You reach behind your head and tug at Mike’s short hair. He nibbles over your jawline and his hot breath over your ear is intoxicating. 

“Are you going to fuck me on the beach, Mr. Stoklasa?”

Mike’s hands stop moving.

“Oh, man. Right. Sorry.”

He pulls away quickly. “Shit,” he sighs. He sits back on his heels before standing up and tucking his very erect dick under his belt line. He walks out closer to the lake shore and tries to slow his breathing. You stand up fully on the sleeping bag and watch him as he attempts to will his erection away. It’s actually kind of adorable. Pointless, sure, but still adorable. 

You kick off your shoes and make short work of your top and jeans as Mike continues to face the other way. The shoulders of his leather jacket bunch up to his ears. 

_"Just talking. Just talking. We're just talking,"_ he mumbles quietly. 

He tries jumping a few times, but that seems to have no effect. 

“Fuck!” he yells to himself. “Sorry. It's... just.... I’d really love to have sex with you. Here or anywhere,” Mike admits as he gazes out over the lake. “But I know you just wanted to talk. That's totally fine. I’m fine. I just gotta refocus.” 

When Mike finally seems to have his cock under control a moment later, he looks back to you. 

You stand naked on top his sleeping bag, illuminated by the glow of the fire and framed on either side by the long, twisting roots and branches of the driftwood tree. The glitter in your hair sparkles like starlight. Your chain necklaces drape down the center of your bare chest reflecting the golden aura of the fire like gilded jewels.

Mike stares at you enraptured; in complete, wordless awe of this punk rock _Birth of Venus_. He walks back to you, drinking in every detail of your body as the firelight dances across your skin. 

“I thought you just wanted to talk,” Mike asks in a low voice.

“You might have _**thought**_ that, dear boy; but I never _**said**_ that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here comes the smut! (I got one vote for smut, and I will respect that vote.) 
> 
> I hope you like the story, everyone! What do you think? Let me know! Leave a comment cause I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> Also, Sheridan Park is a real place. Here's a picture:  
>   
> 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's porn. It's just porn.
> 
>   
>   
> Sheridan Park at sunset.

“Hot damn!” Mike yells before throwing his arms around you and pulling you up against his chest. His lips are on you in an instant, peppering kisses up and down your neck as he holds you off of the ground. “God, you’re so fucking sexy. I thought I was going to have to jump in the lake.” 

“We could still do that if you want,” you giggle as Mike nibbles up to your earlobe. 

“Maybe later,” he pants. “But right now, I have a promise to keep.” You pull away far enough to look into his brown eyes.

“When did you promise me something?”

Mike sets you down and cups your face with both hands. “Not a promise to you, darlin’ - it was to the fucking moron who let you go,” he smiles. 

You don’t remember Mike even talking to your ex, much less making a promise to him. Your head tilts sharply as you try to think. Mike makes a V with his fingers and the memory comes rushing back. Your cheeks flash red.

“Oh my god!” you shout before slapping him on the chest. 

“Don’t use up all of your ‘oh my god’s’ now. I’ll think you’re faking,” Mike teases. His cocky smile is ridiculously sexy as he leans down to kiss you again. His sharp nose traces the edge of your ear.

“I want to make you cum so hard that I’ll have to carry you back to the car - dripping wet and fucking delirious.” He reaches down with his right hand to palm at your bare breast. Mike pinches your nipple and you whimper at the sensation. You can feel a deep growl rumbling through his chest as his hand moves lower. 

Mike’s tongue licks down your neck, over your clavicle and down to your breast as you stand before him. He sucks your right nipple into his mouth as his fingers slide between your outer lips. He presses two digits inside and you gasp at the stretch. Mike’s mouth pops off of your breast as he eases his hand away. He moves to rub your clit in soft circles and your body shudders where you stand.

“Goddamn. You’re so fucking wet," he moans. He slips his fingers inside of you again and your legs threaten to give out. “Lay down. I’m going to eat your perfect little pussy until you’re dripping down my chin.”

Any lingering shame you may have had about being naked on the beach is completely obliterated. You do as you're told, first kneeling and then laying down on Mike’s sleeping bag parallel to the driftwood tree trunk. He grabs two more pieces of wood and throws them on the fire. The burning logs splash out a plume of glowing embers, lighting up your little cove. 

“I want to be able to see your eyes when you cum,” he explains as he shucks off his jacket. He drops down to his knees at your feet and rolls the leather up tightly. He smacks you on the thigh and you raise your bottom high enough for him to wedge his jacket underneath. 

Mike’s hands wrap up under your ass and reach around to hold you by the thighs. He flattens his tongue and licks your pussy like an ice cream cone. He teases your outer lips, laving up the full length of either side before lapping hungrily at your center. Your back arches off of the ground sharply each time his tongue passes over your clit. 

“You taste so fuckin' sweet,” he confesses before sucking your sensitive bud between his lips. You moan loudly and roll your hips into Mike’s mouth. 

He pulls your center up with both hands and buries his face in your wet cunt, flicking his tongue left and right at your entrance as his nose teases your clit. He hums against your pink pussy and the feeling is fucking heavenly. 

“Fuck that’s incredible!” you roar. Your right hand slams down on the driftwood tree and your nails dig into the white bark. Your other hand searches for purchase on the sleeping bag as tension coils in your belly.

“Play with your tits for me,” Mike instructs from between your legs. You nod quickly and wrap your hand around your left breast. You knead your flesh roughly; tugging at your nipple and whimpering for more.

“Please don’t stop. That feels so good,” you plead. Mike grips your right thigh tight and pulls your ass off of his leather jacket. He throws your leg over his shoulder and your legs fall open wide. His arm wraps around your right leg and his hand clamps down your knee behind his head. Mike fucks you with his tongue as the fingers of his right hand flutter over your clit. 

“Fuuuck! Fuuck!” you scream. You claw at your breast while your body shivers. “Your mouth feels so fucking good.” Mike moves away for just a moment to watch the firelight glow across your glistening flesh. 

“Do you want more?” he asks with a pant. His fingers keep up the rhythm against your swollen bud.

“Yes, god yes!” you cry. 

Mike chuckles brightly before pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. 

“ **God** you’re a cocky bastard!” you curse as you roll your hips up to his face. 

“That I am!” he laughs. He plunges his tongue into your entrance before licking up the full length of your pussy. His fingers tease your clit harder and faster. “But I think you fuckin’ love it.”

“Fuck! Goddamn!” you wail. “Yes, I do.”

“Do you want to cum for me?” Mike asks with a smile.

“God yes. Please.” 

Mike’s right hand moves away and you bite your lip in anticipation. Two thick fingers swirl over your sopping wet pussy before Mike eases them both inside. The stretch isn’t painful at all this time. It's just perfect; like he belongs there. He plunges them to the first knuckle, then the second, and then as far as he can. Mike curls them up toward your belly button and you’re so full you think you might burst. 

“FUCK!” you yell. 

"Do you like to feel my fingers fucking your sweet pussy?"

"Yes," you cry. "Fuck, yes." 

“Tell me when you’re going to cum,” Mike instructs. “I want to watch.”

His fingers ease out of you and you immediately miss the feeling of being filled to the brim. You look down to see Mike licking his lips as he stares intently at your wet cunt. He angles your right thigh up higher to get better light and watches his fingers tease your entrance and flick against your clit. Your slick covers his face from nose to chin. 

“Just fucking perfect,” Mike breathes. 

You roll your face away to hide your smile. 

Mike eases your hips down and leans closer. His large brown eyes look up to you as he begins to suckle your clit. Your mouth falls open and your head crashes back down onto the sleeping bag. Mike’s fingers delve in to you slowly; squelching as your slick and his spit drips down to his wrist. 

He keeps a perfect rhythm against you, sucking greedily at your bud while his strong fingers stretch your pussy. He curls his digits inside of you, hitting your g-spot and making your eyes roll back in your head. 

“God, just like that. You feel so good,” you moan. Mike’s fingers speed up as his tongue quickens against you. Your back arches sharply off of the ground as you feel the coil within you about to snap. You let go of your breast and reach down to grab the back of Mike’s head. Through the hairspray and green dye, you lace your fingers in his hair and pull his face deeper into your wet heat. You feel him moan into your cunt before he picks up the pace; lapping and sucking against you until your vision begins to blur. 

“FUUUCK!! Mike! Fuck, I’m… I’m… oh god.. ” is all you can manage. 

“Let me see you,” Mike growls before taking your clit into his mouth again. 

You crane up as best as you can to see Mike’s perfect brown eyes boring into yours. You're suddenly very aware of your nakedness - vulnerable and exposed - like he's looking into your soul. But somehow you feel like a fucking goddess - holding him by the hair and looking into those fathomless brown eyes as he worships you with his mouth.

Your jaw hangs open as you pant desperately. Sweat gathers at his temples while his tongue flicks against your pussy. Your eyes clamp shut just as your orgasm begins to take over; biting down hard and baring your teeth as the exquisite pain and pleasure of your climax tears through your body. Your legs try to close around Mike’s head as your cunt squeezes down on his fingers, fluttering with each wave of your mind-shattering orgasm. 

When you’re finally able to take another breath, you scream out over the lake. Mike pulls his face away but keeps his two fingers pumping inside of you to draw out your bliss. He sits back on his heels and watches as your body writhes. Mike's eyebrow perks up to his hairline licks his lips.

He finally lets you go when your legs start to go slack.

“You are so fuckin' beautiful when you cum,” Mike breathes. 

You can't help but giggle, even as you struggle for breath.

“Get down here, you weirdo,” you tease. 

“Don’t you want another one first?” Mike offers. “It looks like you can still walk, and I just can’t leave you in that condition.”

“For fuckssake, Mike! I’ll take all the Czech sex magic you can give me, but just get down here and hold me for a sec!” you laugh. 

Mike pulls his shirt up to wipe off his mouth and you get another blessed look at his hairy stomach. 

“And take that fucking thing off,” you chime as you point to Mike’s blood-stained white shirt. 

Mike grins wide and makes a small show of pulling off his shirt for you. He tosses it near the pile of your clothing near the top of the sleeping bag. Mike crawls over you and lays on your left side. 

He wraps his long arm over your shoulder and pulls you close. You nuzzle under his chin and breath him in. 

“Thank you, Mike. Fuck, that was incredible.” 

Mike smiles wide at the compliment.

“I’ve never been more thankful to have been punched in the face,” Mike chuckles as he runs his hand up and down your back. You pull away to look him in the eyes. 

“That’s the sexiest thing a man has ever said to me.” 

“Christ! _**Really?!**_ ” he asks. You bury your face under Mike’s chin as you giggle. 

“Actually, I think everything you’ve ever said to me is the sexiest thing a man has ever said to me.” 

Your breasts press into Mike’s hairy chest as he looks straight down into your eyes. 

“Even the _Star Trek_ stuff?” he laughs. 

“ **Especially** the _Star Trek_ stuff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked my porn! There's more coming. :) 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Porn. Sweet, fun, porny porn.
> 
>   
> 

“Who’d have thought you could use that mouth for something that good?” you smile. 

Mike’s laughter reverberates in his chest. 

You shift in his arms, shimmying away enough to take in the sight of Mike’s shirtless body. With his back to the fire, it’s almost impossible to make out any details. 

“Could you get on your back for me? There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while.”

“We met like six hours ago,” Mike teases. 

“Well then I’ve wanted to do it for almost the entire time I’ve known you, you dick!” 

Mike grins before rolling over to lay on his back. The fire illuminates the left side of his body, casting dark shadows across the hills and valleys of his abdomen. You hold yourself up on your elbow, resting your head in your hand. Mike chuckles lightly as you admire his form. 

“Like what you see?” he laughs. 

“It’s nice, sure,” you answer absent-mindedly and trail your finger up and down his furry stomach. “But…”

“But what?” Mike asks, sounding just a pinch nervous. He looks over at you with a furrowed brow. 

“Buuuut I think I need a better vantage point,” you explain. 

You sit yourself up on your knees and look down to Mike's thin frame. You tilt your head back and forth as you examine his chest. “Hmmmm…..” you mutter under your breath. “Hmmmm hmmm… This is better, but I can’t quite tell.”

You throw your knee over Mike’s body and straddle his hips. His hard cock lines up perfectly with your center and you roll against him. He groans before reaching up to hold onto your thighs. Mike stares hungrily at your breasts; his mouth open wide.

Your fingers comb into the dark hair near his belt line. You bite your lip as you run them like snakes in the grass up towards Mike’s shoulders. When you reach his chest, you spread your hands wide over each peck and breathe deeply. Mike groans and rocks his pelvis against you.

"You are just fucking beautiful," you confess quietly.

"Thanks for noticing," he replies. 

"Oh for fuckssake, Mike!" 

"If you want to keep my mouth busy, why don’t you crawl up here and let me eat your pussy again?"

“Tempting. Very tempting,” you admit. 

You claw down Mike's rib cage on either side and move back to sit on his pelvis, holding onto his belt like a riding saddle. His thumbs knead into your thighs as he smiles up at you and you grind your dripping cunt against his cock. 

"Don't you want to fuck me?" you ask sweetly. You unhook Mike's leather belt and unbutton the top of his pants; pulling them down to find a pair of simple jersey-knit boxers. Mike moans as you palm his cock through the fabric.

" _Fuuuuck._ Of course I do," he moans. "But I don't have condoms."

You pout your lips and nod your understanding. _This could be fun._

You lean down and place a kiss at the center of Mike’s stomach. The smattering of hair there tickles your nose and you laugh against his warm skin. You pepper another half-dozen kisses down his happy trail to the top of his boxers; pulling them down slowly until his cock springs free. 

_Don’t react. Don’t react._

Mike _clearly_ doesn’t need the ego boost of you fawning over his _very_ impressive cock. 

You wrap your hand around the base of his dick and take note that your middle finger just barely reaches your thumb. _Of course it’s perfect. Of fucking course it is._

You angle his manhood straight up and swirl his tip over your flat tongue. Mike’s fingers dig into your thighs and he hisses sharply. You smile and sit up tall; pumping his dick tortuously slow as his hips begin to roll into yours. Your clit rubs against him, drawing your slick onto his hard cock. 

"What would you like to do if you had condoms?" you ask him.

“Make water balloons,” Mike breathes. You take your hand off of his cock and it bounces against this stomach. 

“Good god, Mike!” you laugh. “You are such a shithead!” 

“What?!” he chuckles. You set your hands on your hips and look down on him with a snarky face. Mike sighs as his hands begin to massage your thighs. 

“I can’t…. it’s… fuck,” he tries. He takes a deep breath and looks up at you with a tinge of sadness. Those beautiful brown eyes stare right through you. “You’re absolutely fucking beautiful and amazing and I would give anything to make love to you for hours on this beach. But it’s… we don’t have any…. I’m just trying not to do something stupid.” His concern is painfully sweet. 

“So hypothetically, if I were to tell you that I have condoms in my pocket right now…” His thick cock twitches between your legs and startles you. You look down to see a glistening bead of cum pooling at his slit. 

“Wow, Mike. That’s one hell of a litmus test you got there,” you tease.

Mike reaches up and covers his huge smile with both hands.

“How do you even have enough blood left in your body to make your cheeks that pink?” you giggle. Mike bites his bottom lip and shakes his head as he laughs. He quiets down the moment your fingers wrap around his cock again. 

“Now then,” you clear your throat. “If you had a condom...” You pump against his stiff cock with one hand. “...what would you like to do?”

“ _Fuuuck,_ ” he pants. 

“Just ‘fuck’?” You grind your hips against him and your wet clit glides against the underside of his shaft. “I’d have thought you’d be more creative than that.” 

You tighten your grip around his cock and quicken your pace. You feel him swell in your hand.

" _Goddamn…_ I'd love to suck on those beautiful tits and fuck you stupid. I’d like to bend you over this tree and make you cum on my cock for hours,” he groans.

“That’s my sweet boy. I love that filthy mouth of yours,” you smile wickedly. “Anything else?” You sit up higher on your knees, holding Mike’s dick and teasing your clit with his tip. 

“Jesus! Fuck. Goddamn,” he curses. He cranes his neck to watch you flick his cock over your dripping cunt. “Fuck! You’re incredible! I want to **bury** my cock in that tight fuckin' pussy,” He growls and his thumbs dig into your thighs. “I want you watch your tits bounce when ride me into the fuckin' ground! I want to make you cum till you cry. FUCK!”

“That's better," you praise. You bend down and lick the cum off Mike's tip and moan against his sensitive flesh. 

“I just wanted to know if your cock is going to as fun as your mouth.” You bite your lip and smile up at Mike before letting go off his dick.

“Hand me my pants, please,” you say before pointing at your small pile of clothes near his head. Mike grabs your jeans and hands them to you quickly. You dig into your pocket and pull a black and gold wrapper before tossing your pants back up over his head.

“Thank you, Mike,” you smile. You rip the wrapper open and pull out a red condom. Finding the tip of the latex, you pinch it between your thumb and index finger and grab Mike’s impressive manhood. You hold the condom with one hand and unfurl it down his shaft with the other. 

“Are you sur..” Mike starts. 

“That you’ll fit?” you chuckle. “No, not entirely.” 

Mike throws his head back in a laugh. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he confesses. 

You gaze down at him with a confident smile: _“Thanks for noticing.”_

Mike holds his breath as you line the tip of his cock up with your entrance. You close your eyes and take him in slowly, relishing the incredible feeling of his thick cock stretching your most intimate space. After what seems like an eternity, your hips finally rest against his pelvis again. 

“Goddamn,” you gasp. You open your eyes to see Mike panting desperately. Sweat builds at his temples as he tries to focus. 

"It feels like you could split me in half," you moan. Mike shudders beneath you and it feels incredible. You lean forward and place your hands just under Mike’s chest, rolling your pelvis to take him deeper. Mike’s hands reach up to your hips and pull you down to him. 

“Christ, you’re going to empty my cock with that tight fuckin' pussy,” he growls.

"That was the plan," you pant before smiling back. You speed up, rocking against him as he guides the movement of your hips. 

“Let me see your tits,” Mike commands. You lean back, holding on to Mike’s legs behind your ass. His mouth hangs open as he watches your breasts bouncing in the fire light while you ride him. “So fucking sexy,” he praises. 

You arch your back and the new angle makes his cock hit your g-spot directly over and over again. Mike bites his bottom lip; watching his manhood plunge into your dripping wet pussy every time his hips slam up into you. He takes one hand and begins to flick two fingers against your clit. Your knees shake and you feel ready to burst. 

“Mike, fuck! Your cock feels so fucking good,” you scream. 

"Do you want to cum for me?” You can hear his huge smile in his voice. 

“Yes, god yes,” you moan.

"Then fuck me hard till you cum all over my cock” Mike orders.

You whip your hips against him repeatedly, taking him as deeply as you can. Your nails dig into his thighs as you arch your back up even further. Mike’s fingers flutter over your clit relentlessly until every muscle in your body tightens. You throw your head back and scream.

“FUUUUUCK!!!” 

Your pussy clamps down around Mike’s dick and he moans your name. Your knees give out and your hips thrash against him wildly as your orgasm takes over. Mike props himself up with one hand and wraps his other arm around your waist. You throw your arms around his shoulders and buck against him. Mike holds your hips up and fucks you hard through your orgasm; pouding into your wet pussy as you scream. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you cum,” Mike groans in your ear. 

You lean back in Mike’ lap and he latches on to your left nipple, biting and licking like a man starved. Your body starts to shake as the sensation of Mike’s thick cock slamming into you again and again becomes almost too much. 

“I want to see you cum,” you pant. “Please, Mike. I want to see you when you cum for me.” 

Mike sits up fully, wrapping one arm around your upper back to hold your neck and the other low on your hips. He starts a punishing rhythm into you, slamming you down onto his cock with both arms as he fucks you from below. His balls slap into your ass with every quick thrust.

He throws his head back and bares his teeth with a feral growl. You cup his jaw with one hand as he pants desperately; grunting his effort each time he bottoms out inside of you. 

“Fuck! Fuck, I’m…” he starts. His breath hitches and his eyes shoot open wide. Those perfect brown eyes look deep into yours and nothing else in the world matters. You hold his face with both hands and command him:

“Cum for me.” 

Mike’s scream could wake half of Milwaukee. “FUUUUUUUUCK!” he howls. Mike cums hard; filling the condom with wave after wave of his pulsing orgasm. His hips pound into you of their own volition as Mike’s fingers dig into your neck and hip. 

“Holy fuck!” he groans. He pulls your face down to kiss you passionately; his tongue glides over yours as you pant into each other. You rock against him white his white release drips down to the sleeping bag.

"Fuck you're perfect," Mike whimpers as he kneads your ass. He loosens his grip around your neck and you feel your pussy pulsing around his softening cock.

He kisses down your throat, across your clavicle, and down your breasts as hips slowly rock into you.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous," he whispers.

Mike's half-hard dick sides out of you as you roll off of him and collapse onto your side. “I’m fucking exhausted!” you giggle. You close your eyes and run a hand over your sweaty temple.

" _You're_ exhausted!?" Mike yells. "I just came so hard I saw my grampa!"

"Fucking hell, Mike!" you laugh. "You're crazy!"

"It was actually really nice," Mike jokes as he tries to catch his breath. "He said he was proud of me."

You roll into your back and slap both hands on your cheeks.

"What in god's name have I just done?" you giggle.

Mike laughs hard and shakes his head. "Sorry. Sorry. That was incredible," he chuckles. He plants a soft kiss to your cheek. "Thank you."

Mike looks down his abdomen at his slick cock.

“Oh _shit!_ " Mike panics. His hand shoots down to his dick in a flash. “Shit shit SHIT!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whaaaaaat?! 
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter! Let me know what you think!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short final chapter.
> 
>   
> 

You bolt upright.

“WHAT?! What’s wrong?!”

“The fuckin condom… oh, fuck - it’s everywhere,” Mike yells.

“ _It_ **_BROKE!??_ **” 

_Shit Shit Shit._

Mike carefully pulls the condom off of his softening cock. 

“No! God no. I’m just leaking everywhere,” Mike laughs. 

You thank the stars above before looking down on Mike’s lap. Sure enough, from the base of his cock and across his lower abdomen, he’s covered in cum.

"You **_fucker!_ **I thought… shit!” You laugh. “Fuck, I thought I was gonna get pregnant or catch... you know... if you have anything... STD-wise..." you ramble. 

"Nah. You should be fine, it's just leaking out the bottom,” Mike assures you. “Also, it’s awesome that you thought I'd be bursting at the seams with gonorrhea, but it's a no on that front, too." Mike perches up on his knees to get a better look at his lap. 

You try to recover from your near heart attack as Mike examines the damage.

“I was just kidding when I said you’d empty me, but fuck!” he giggles. He tries to escape his oozing release by wiggling his pants down further. “I feel like I just got slimed.”

You chuckle to yourself before running both hands over your sweaty hair and breathing in the cool air. You grab your tattered green shirt from the top of the sleeping bag and drape it over Mike’s shoulder from behind. 

“Then you should clean yourself up, filthy boy,” you tease before putting your arms through your New Found Glory shirt. 

Mike looks over his shoulder at you with a raised eyebrow. “Are you sure? I’m going to ruin it.” 

“What more noble a death could a spaghetti strap tank top hope for than to become a cum rag for a sexy Czech guy?”

“Well, I know that’s how I want to go out,” he laughs. 

Mike takes your ratty top and manages to clean off most of his gooey mess. You slip on your panties and jeans before sitting down with your back against the driftwood tree trunk. He tosses your cum-covered shirt to the other side of the sleeping bag before zipping up his pants. He throws another log on the fire before sitting down shirtless next to you. He threads the fingers of his left hand though yours and you lean into his bare shoulder to watch the wood burn. You sit in easy silence for a long time, listening to his steady breathing. 

“So is this how you seduce all of your ladies, Mr. Stoklasa?”

“Yep. Exactly. I just follow the Warped Tour picking up and bedding any woman who gets trapped in a mosh pit,” he explains. “I used to follow *NSync, but their concerts have really calmed down lately - there’s only like 3 mosh pits per show now - not even worth my time,” Mike deadpans. 

“So you had to say ‘Bye, Bye, Bye’ to that, then?” you offer. 

“Yeah, it was ‘Tearing up my Heart’,” Mike replies with a smile. 

“Holy shit - a man unashamed to show off his knowledge of 90’s boy bands. That’s pretty rare.” 

“What can I say, ‘I Want it that Way,’” Mike giggles before holding up a hand for a high-five. 

“That’s Backstreet Boys.”

“FUUUUUUUCK!!!” he screams. You both laugh loudly into the night air. 

Mike puts his right hand on top of yours reassuringly. “No. I don’t normally pick up women by literally picking them up off of a floor.”

“I’m glad you did this time”

“Me, too.”

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

You spend the next few hours talking about your families, your passions, and your dreams. You listen intently as Mike describes how much he loves filmmaking and understanding what makes the medium so powerful. You tell him about Liz breaking up with Brian at the show and he laughs so hard he cries. He talks about the REWind International Media Festival coming up at the end of the summer and you wonder if you’re crazy enough to accompany him on the 12-hour drive. 

Despite your best efforts, you drift off to sleep with your head on his shoulder. Mike watches you thoughtfully in the firelight, committing your face to memory...

Until he feels you drooling down his arm.

For some reason, he doesn't really mind. 

Mike lays you out across the sleeping bag nearer the fire. He softly hums _Norwegian Wood_ as you wrap yourself around his side. The firelight fades and he finally allows himself to drift to sleep. 


End file.
